#the fact this was one of his first scenes and i was supposed to pay attention to the rest of the episode??

[queenspock]

Wish we got to see more of Major Reed especially in MACO uniform

[playerprincess]

Why the Sol Soulmate Theory SUCKS

I‘m kidding (sorta), this is clickbait.

But let’s actually talk about it!

Disclaimer: This is no hate to the people that came up with the Soulmate theory, it is in fact a very good theory! The title is really just clickbait and I thought it was funny. English isn’t my first language, but I tried to explain everything well. If something is hard to understand just ask and I‘ll try to explain it differently. Contains spoilers for the tkatb game.

For those of you who don’t know the theory: It‘s kind of hard to pinpoint the exact post everybody is talking about since there’s more than one, but if you want to get a feeling for what it‘s about I‘d recommend reading this or this.

————————————————————————————

"Well, if the theory doesn’t suck, then what even is your problem??"

While the theory in itself doesn’t suck, I do have a few issues that I would like to go over just in case anybody feels the same way. There is a lot of indications that this theory is true (see the links above for more), and obviously if something is hinted at this much there will be some truth stuck to it.

I personally feel like the theory that MC and Sol are actually soulmate kind of defeats the purpose that Sol is supposed to be a delusional Yandere. It gives him an actual "reason" to obsess over MC, because in the grand scheme of the universe, MC is actually connected to him in a way. The soulmate troupe is generally used for romance after all, wich kind of goes against what the visual novel is supposed to be.

I enjoy Sol‘s character as much as the next person, but from what I‘ve gathered from fantasia-kitt and the information that were given, tkatb is not a dating sim, but rather a horror visual novel. At least that’s how Fantasia wants us to see the game as. And again, while I believe the theory in itself fits into the story perfectly fine, I think fantasia didn’t really intend for it to be taken the way that it is.

"My game is not a romance game, it's a thriller/horror game." - Fantasia

When I first played it, I only had the free version downloaded. After enjoying the story however, I decided to go back and pay for the additional nsfw version (for educational purposes of course ;) ), and I feel like the games’ horror aspect shines through so much more because of those few added scenes. Obviously part of me enjoyed the spice, I‘m not going to sit here and lie in your faces, but the information that was added with this specific version also helped me see Sol in the way fantasia initially intended us to; a fucking weirdo.

Take the highly controversial infamous 🍇 scene for example. Of course it’s already weird enough that he breaks into MCs house and drugs them in the sfw version, but to me it really conveyed the type of yandere Sol happens to be. The lengths he is willing to go to satiate his delusions, how deranged and mentally unwell this guy actually is. People tend to forget that yanderes aren’t only obsessed jealous people, and I think fantasia did a fine job at conveying that. Sol is in fact not a good person.

What does this have to do with the soulmate theory?

Like I said before, Sol is highly delusional. And not in a "I‘m so delulu I‘m just a guy" way, but he is actually delusional enough the believe that MC is in fact his soulmate.

You know how people for example take everything as a "sign" that something is supposed to happen? Like when you see your initials next to the person you like in a TikTok post and think "damn, this can’t be a coincidence", or when a horoscope gives you advice that perhaps fits your current situation perfectly well. Those are delusions. You’re being delusional.

Sol is obsessed with the MC to a degree he actually believes that they must’ve been together in every lifetime. That just has to be it, there’s no other possible way. But MC knows nothing about this guy. They didn’t even realize they shared a class together. Sol stalks MC probably every day, drugs them, and sneaks into their house to live out his weird ass fantasies for a reason we don’t yet know. He‘s deluded himself to a point that he actually thinks that it’s fate, that it must be destined by the universe.

Fantasia says themselves that Sol is narrow minded and deranged. We know he’s a virgin with no former experience in romance and dating. Perhaps he’s never even had a crush before. Maybe his first reaction to all these new feelings that he doesn’t understand is that this must be sent by the universe. The pull he feels towards MC must be something out of this world, it can’t just be normal romantic attraction. I mean, he asks Hyugo to kill him after MC dies in ending 1, this guy is absolutely fixated on the MC to a point where it’s just plain psychotic.

I‘d also argue that Sol‘s feelings towards MC can be described as "Love", but we won’t get into that now.

"The yandere is not in love with you, they lust after you, they are delusional enough to believe that what they feel is genuine love when in fact, love like that is never real nor to be accept in the first place. You should feel repulsed by their actions." - Fantasia

And while he does feel all these strong feelings, he can’t even explain why he views them as a savior/angel. He might be MC‘s stalker, but he doesn’t truly know them. He just idolizes them.

"[…] that I finally got to write down what he is capable of, that he is irredeemable and having Crowe as his source of hatred just because he is close to the MC shows his narow-mindedness, he is sick in the head. Sol is not mild, he is on the EXTREME level of yandere, he is DERANGED and I will keep writing him like that." -Fantasia

"The way Sol sees MC is special, he sees them no one else can, just like a lover would. A lover would see their significant other that other people don't understand." -Fantasia

The soulmate theory is good. But I feel like because it is so good it would be so much better if it wasn’t actually true (or if it had some sort of twist to it). Everything aligns perfectly. Sol used to be the executioner in a past life and couldn’t be with the MC, so naturally he’d try everything to get them to love him in this life right? Except there is no past life. Sometimes coincidences line up so perfectly that we actually believe that there’s value behind it, a greater meaning. The bruise on his neck, his tendency for violence, it just has to mean something right?! Maybe he can make MC see, make them realize that yes, Sol is absolutely right with his Soulmate theory, they’re meant to be!

"He says that you're the one even though you've only met him once." - Fantasia

It feels like such a perfect theory to make the MC believe that they’re really destined to be together by the universe. The perfect theory to manipulate a naive person into thinking that their hearts beat as one, that their Soulstrings are carefully tied together by fate‘s own hands. Except they’re not. It’s all made up. A well conducted story to lure MC in and make them believe they’re his.

It’s easy to slip into the "Oh, but we’re actually soulmates so he can’t really help it" in my opinion, so I‘m not really fond of this theory. MC is just a normal person. They’re not special, not tied to him in any way. He just let’s himself believe it. And he wants you to believe it too.

"[…] I don't want people to excuse Sol, I don't want people to develop an unhealthy relationship and idea with a yandere." - Fantasia

"You could already tell he's trying to charm you (and its working) to get you to trust him so he can do all the nasty stuff. […] Not only he got to fool the MC but YOU, the player, as well." - Fantasia

Maybe I‘m just biased since I don’t particularly enjoy the amnesia and/or reincarnation trope very much, I feel like it has a lot of potential that never gets fleshed out in a satisfying way. In the case of tkatb, I think I wouldn’t really enjoy the reveal of it if it were the case. But at the end of the day fantasia can do whatever they want with it (as they should), and if that’s the course they want to take then that’s perfectly fine.

What kind of stops me from having a strong opinion is that we don’t really know what Fantasia’s understanding of Soulmates is. Maybe they have a special way of viewing the trope, maybe they don’t even believe in it at all privately! Some people for example think soulmates are always romantic, while others think they can be platonic as well. How do they categorize its meaning? Does their personal opinion influence their story?

But that’s just my opinion. It’s totally fine if you have a different theory or if you don’t agree, it’s just a game after all!

I think the idea that they’re soulmates in itself isn’t bad. It could be a device to show the player that even tho there is a soul connection, it doesn’t justify Sol‘s behavior and he’s taking it way too far. And if the reincarnation theory is true, maybe Crowe could be our true soulmate. He serves as a direct counterpart to Sol after all, so why not? Sol says "It‘s always him", in regards to what he thinks about Crowe. Maybe he’s trying to convince himself that it’s not Crowe who is MC‘s soulmate, but him instead. Because in his mind, that makes much more sense.

Conclusion

I think that the theory in itself works in the world of tkatb, however I feel like the issue lies more in the way that people receive it. It gives the player a reason to sympathize with Sol, after all he "just wants to be with his Soulmate", right? But I think Fantasia wanted to implement this trope to empathize how selfish Sol is, and that he doesn’t actually care about what his Soulmate wants. Personally, I believe that if you’re someone‘s soulmate, you should want to see them happy. And Sol clearly isn’t happy with MC when they pick Crowe over him (wich results in Crowe‘s brutal death). It’s something that he‘s using as an excuse to justify his obsessive behavior and should perhaps be treated as such.

"You hate him? That's good! That's the whole point of his character! You're SUPPOSE to hate him!" - Fantasia

And again, we know way too little of the worldbuilding and plot to actually know for sure. I think it’s way more likely that I‘m proven wrong in the future than the others. I just wanted to share my thoughts hihi

Pryn out.

[antiwhores]

(Dubcon at first)

Alpha!Bakugou in rut whispering “‘M sorry” to you, the Omega who wants nothing to do with him, as he dry humps you from behind.

He knows its wrong but he just cant stop his hips from rutting into your ass. He’s always been attracted to you, beyond normally. That’s probably why he bullied you in middle school. He just couldn’t handle the fact that he’d go crazy over your scent.

That had been years ago but he still thought about you.

He saw you at a coffee shop one day and immediately recognized your smell. It was almost like he was destined to be with you again.

You, however, were less than pleased. As soon as you made eye contact with him he winced at how your scent changed. It went from a calm, delicious scent to a scared sour.

You practically ran out of the door.

He couldn’t let you get away. He had been thinking about you since the day he graduated middle school. No way was he about to loose this opportunity to rekindle the relationship with HIS omega… well, soon to be his.

“Wait y/n!”

The sound of your name caught you so off guard you tripped on your own feet into the grass. He never said your name, it was always a mean nickname. You hadn’t even thought that he knew it.

You started to shake, “Leave me alone!”

He put his hands up beside his head, “I’m not gonna hurt you. I just wanted to talk.”

As you sat there, fisting the grass, he apologized. He told you about how he wanted to show you that he had changed. He wanted to be friends.

But you wouldn’t have any of that. Even though it was middle school, it was still traumatizing to this day.

You got up, brushing off the grass as you told him that you could never be friends. You told him off for everything that he did to you. He stood there and took it.

After that day, you started to see actual effort from him. Somehow, he found out your address. It was probably in some documents that can be accessed by pro hero’s.

He started sending flowers to your house. Food during lunch either at home or at work. He would show up randomly at different times to talk to you. He would even pay for your groceries. He dropped them off at your door before ringing the doorbell and walking away.

At first, you didn’t trust it at all. No way was the man that bullied you trying to court you into befriending him. But after a while your guard started to come down.

You would engage in conversation the tiniest bit instead of sitting in silence with him when he’d come sit at any table he found you at. You would even look him in the eyes when he spoke.

Everything was going well until his rut.

He was supposed to go home immediately after he felt the first heat wave surge through his body. Unfortunately, a villain decided to attack on his way back. And it also just so happens that you were on the scene.

He almost killed the villain for even being around you. The rut wasn’t letting him think clearly. All he could think was “protect mine.” He only stopped hitting the poor dude when you yelled his name.

He didn’t even realize the guy had passed out.

Bakugou looked sickly. His face red, sweaty and strained. He was breathing so heavily he was getting light headed. You could tell something was wrong. But you were ignorant to the fact it was his rut. Pro hero’s were required by law to use scent blockers. You couldn’t even smell his rut.

You took him to your house to help him since it wasn’t too far away.

As soon as he entered, his semi-hard cock went fully rock hard. He was trying to control himself on the way here. He barely managed to. But being surrounded by your scent, he couldn’t take it anymore.

He snatched off his scent blockers and in a quick movement he had you pinned against the wall.

He was humping you, fully clothed, before he even comprehended that he moved.

He wanted to cry, it hurt so bad. This small bit of relief felt heavenly.

“Bakugou? What are you-“

You had to shut your mouth when a moan came out of his. You knew that if you spoke any longer you’d have let out one of your own.

“‘M sorry, I cant-“

He groaned at a particularly hard jerk of his hips against your ass.

“‘M sorry…”

As he humped you from behind, your knees weakened. He was the only one holding you up. You were falling into a heat of your own from his scent.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry. Im ruining-“

He couldn’t even speak in full sentences without moaning into your neck.

“‘M almost done… Just- fuck… let me…”

He started to grind against you harder and faster. You couldn’t breathe, all you could inhale was him. Your mind went foggy, you could hear your own moans mixing with his. Even without the stimulation you felt so fucking good.

He stopped grinding against you as he came. He pushed himself hard against your heated body as he dug his nails into your hips.

His orgasm was strong. Leg shaking, eyes rolling back strong. He came ropes in his pants before he slumped against you.

You both fell to the ground, heavily breathing.

His mind temporarily cleared enough to know that he fucked up.

He was trying to cook up a worthy apology before he was interrupted by your voice.

You reached for his belt as you spoke,

“Take it off.”

[rosierin]

serving looks and trouble | atsumu, osamu

synopsis; (y/n) works as a barista and the twins decide to pay her a visit. cue the gossip, the questions, and atsumu being atsumu.

a/n; if this isn’t the most “y/n” scenario ever idk what is

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

It started with the jingle of the café door.

Then a pause.

Then a collective gasp from behind the counter.

“Ohmygod,” one of (y/n)’s co-workers whispered, eyes almost bulging out her head. “Who are they?”

Another peeked over her shoulder, milk jug still in hand, jaw slightly slack. “Are they celebrities or something?”

The sound of milk frothing and mugs clinking didn’t stop, but it definitely slowed, as if the entire café had turned its head in unison. Even the indie pop playing overhead felt like it dipped in volume.

(Y/n) was elbow-deep in seasonal syrups and foam art when one of her co-workers eagerly tugged at her sleeve. Thing was, she didn't even bother looking up.

The shift in atmosphere was unmistakable—bolder than the espresso in the air and louder than the hiss of the steamer.

She could recognise those twin sets of footsteps anywhere. Those unhurried, confident steps paired with a presence that filled the room, the kind that stated we’re here without so much as opening their mouths.

Still, she smiled, lighting up at the sight of them as they walked through the door. “Hey, guys.”

Her greeting was met with a pair of lazy waves and even lazier smiles.

Atsumu leaned against the counter first, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, his expression as casual as it was intentional. His eyes found hers instantly—like they always did.

“Afternoon, angel.”

Right behind him, Osamu matched the pose but with a quieter presence, one hand in his jacket pocket, the other resting on the edge of the counter. His smile was crooked and warm, but no-less smug.

“How’s our favourite barista?”

(Y/n)’s co-workers—two Uni students and one high schooler doing weekend shifts—were frozen. One of them dropped a spoon with a curse. Another accidentally messed up her latte heart. The third turned away and giggled girlishly into her sleeve.

“Don’t encourage them,” (y/n) muttered, face warming as she wiped her hands on her apron. She gave the twins a weak glare as she walked over, but her voice was far from scolding. “You guys are doing too much.”

Both claimed to have no idea what she was talking about. Merely exchanging a glance before shrugging in almost perfect sync.

Freaky twin telepathy things, she supposed.

"What brings you two foxes here anyway?"

Neither twin flinched at the nickname. She found herself referring to them as such ever since she met them in high school. Cunning minds, sharp tongues and charming faces.

In fact, she was pretty sure they enjoyed the shared title, if their award-winning smiles were anything to go by.

She would've rolled her eyes, but Atsumu stepped forward and propped his chin on his hand, watching her with the kind of shameless awe that made her want to melt and throw a towel at him at the same time. “We came for a pick-me-up.”

“And maybe a pastry,” Osamu added, already eyeing the display case. “Whaddaya recommend?”

That earned a muffled squeal from one of her co-workers, who instantly perked up and bounded over to assist him—suddenly very enthusiastic about describing each of the monthly specials in great detail. Osamu listened politely, even throwing in a follow-up question or two, and offering the occasional quiet joke that made the girl giggle, cheeks flushed pink.

(Y/n) shook her head fondly, watching the scene unfold. Turning up the charm, I see. She bit back a smile, amused.

She watched them for a heartbeat longer before her gaze naturally drifted to Atsumu, already bracing herself for whatever antics he had planned.

The small sigh she let out was almost instinctual as she asked, “You. What do you want?”

Atsumu tilted his head, a slow, amused grin pulling at his mouth. “That how ya talk to all yer customers?”

(Y/n) blinked, realizing belatedly that her tone had been a little too dry and quickly plastered on a sunnier smile. “No,” she said sweetly, hoping to cover up her little slip-up. “Just the ones who flirt with staff.”

A brief flicker crossed Atsumu’s face—something entertained and boyish—before a laugh spilled out of him, as bright and easy as the sunlight pouring through the picture window.

“Hey, I barely said anythin’ yet," he held his hands up in mock surrender, the sparkle in his eye unmistakable.

“Yeah, and it’s the yet that’s worrying me," she said, grabbing a pen and paper. "Anywho..." She clicked it once and put on her best customer service voice and smile. “What can I get for ya?"

Atsumu was clearly enjoying their little roleplay, because the grin on his face didn’t waver once. If anything, the glint in his eyes only seemed to brighten, like he was waiting for something she wasn’t quite catching.

When her eyebrows quirked up in question, he merely shrugged, his voice dropping just enough to make it feel oddly intimate. "Alright, alright…" he drawled, "I’ll get whatever the pretty barista recommends."

An eyeroll was her only response to his flirting. She began jotting down his order, pretending not to flinch at the heat crawling up her neck.

You'd think she'd be used to it by now, but with her friends-slash-co-workers all hovering nearby, all trying a bit too hard not to listen in on their conversation, it was hard not to feel even the slightest bit flustered at all the compliments and smiles he was tossing her way.

“How do ya know I was talkin’ about you?”

Her hand froze mid-scribble.

"'Tsumu—Seriously?"

His attempt at innocence was appalling. Especially with how he was practically soaking up the chorus of giggles her co-workers had the audacity of sparing him.

The blush on her cheeks worsened as he chuckled along with them, the sound doing little to quell the heat blooming across her features.

“God,” she muttered, swatting at one of the girls who was already fanning herself with a receipt pad.

Atsumu just beamed, looking far too proud of himself.

“Go sit down,” she ordered, jerking her head toward the seating area where Osamu had already claimed a window seat with a perfect view of the counter. When Atsumu didn’t budge, she gave him a gentle shove on the shoulder. “Go on. Shoo.”

“Alright, alright, no need t’ push,” he chuckled, stepping back with that dopey smile of his.

(Y/n) shook her head, but a small laugh escaped before she could stop it. She watched him retreat across the café—bright with sunlight and chatter—to where Osamu was already sitting by the window, peeling the wrapper off a muffin with the look of a man who hadn't eaten in days.

Her co-workers were on her instantly.

As she turned to prep their drinks, they leaned in with laser focus, like they were dissecting a secret romance novel.

She focused on the task in front of her—anything to ignore the way they were practically vibrating behind her. Two iced lattes. One with a single pump of vanilla for Osamu—classic, smooth, no fuss. The other with two generous pumps of caramel for Atsumu—of course. She added ice, poured the shots, topped both with cold foam, then reached for the lids.

She was just about to slide them across the counter when a hand grabbed her wrist.

“Conference room,” her co-worker whispered urgently, tugging her into the back prep corner like they were about to discuss classified information.

The three of them circled her like cats cornering a mouse.

“So…” one began, eyes wide and burning with gossip. “Are you gonna tell us who they are, or what?”

(Y/n) felt the weight of the question loom over her. “...Friends?”

“Friends?” another echoed, voice rising an octave. “Plural? Girl, what did you do in a previous life to end up with two friends who look like that?”

“I—what?” (y/n) spluttered, a laugh threatening to break through. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I mean—no, I do. But it’s chill. We’ve been friends since high school, that’s all. We're pretty close but that's about it."

“Pretty close,” the highschooler probed, narrowing her eyes with a teasing smirk. “How close?”

(Y/n) groaned, but affection tugged at her lips. “Just friendship close. Seriously. They look all charming now, but they’re more of a handful than they’re letting on.”

She tilted her head, glancing toward their table. Osamu was holding his muffin just out of Atsumu’s reach, stretching his arm above his head like a protective parent while Atsumu made multiple attempts to steal it, getting kicked in the shin each time. They were already arguing—hands waving, faces animated—even though they hadn’t been in the café ten minutes.

“Not to mention noisy,” she muttered.

“Wait,” one of the girls said suddenly, eyes lighting up. “Are they… single?”

(Y/n) hesitated. “Uh… yeah. They are. But I don’t think either of them are looking for anything right now—”

A round of the most judging, disbelieving glances followed, enough to make (y/n) slightly curl in on herself.

“Whattt? How do you know that?”

“Yeah, (y/n). C’mon, don’t gatekeep.”

“I’m not!” she laughed, exasperated. “But if you’re seriously interested, why don’t you just ask them yourself? I dunno, write your number on their cup or something.”

That sent her co-workers into an absolute spiral.

They all started fussing—giggling, whispering, glancing over at the twins’ table a few too many times. The air felt warmer, buzzing with curiosity and far too many hormones.

And as if Atsumu could somehow smell the pheromones from across the café, he rose to his feet and sauntered over.

He plucked up his iced latte with a lazy grin plastered on his face. Then he took one sip and asked to nobody in particular, “What’s all the fuss about? Saw ya glancin' over a coupla time."

One co-worker opened her mouth to speak—then immediately closed it again, already red-faced and flustered.

(Y/n) took this as her cue. “Yeah, actually. The girls wanted to know if you were both single.”

A chorus of gasps echoed around the bar.

“(Y/n)!” one of them hissed, scandalized.

She just shrugged, completely unbothered, sipping her own drink with the calm of someone watching the world burn.

Atsumu jerked a thumb at his brother. “He is." He took another long sip of his drink before his eyes flicked back to (y/n), practically gleaming. “I’m not.”

She cocked an eyebrow, arms folding. “Oh, really.”

He didn’t elaborate—he didn’t need to. The implication hung in the air like steam from a fresh cappuccino. But just in case it wasn’t painfully obvious, he winked.

She hated the way her heart skipped a beat.

God’s sake.

In front of her co-workers? Seriously?

(Y/n) was about to retort something when Atsumu suddenly turned to leave, Osamu trailing after him with an amused shake of the head.

“Anyway we gotta bounce," he shot over his shoulder. Osamu lingered at the door, propping it open with his foot as he waved. (Y/n) returned the gesture, head tilting as Atsumu flashed her one last cheeky grin.

"See ya later, babe. Text us when ya come home!"

And with that, they left the store with the same swagger they had entered it with.

Finally, the café could breathe again.

The silence behind the counter, however, was nothing short of deafening.

Well. It was.

Not for long.

"'Babe?'" one of them gawked, holding her hands up like she'd just made a world-shattering discovery. "And hang on a minute—you live with them? I like how you conveniently left that detail out. God, I have so many questions—!”

And in came the flood of inevitable interrogations...

"Wait, so you are dating him, then?” another gasped, leaning dramatically over the counter.

"Be honest," the youngest chimed in, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just blink twice if it’s complicated."

“(Y/n), I can't believe you didn't even TELL us??” the first girl cried, clutching her chest in betrayal.

"Giiiirl—" the second chastised, "you're living the dream for real."

(Y/n) buried her face in her hands.

“We’re not dating," she groaned into her palms. Then, almost completely glossing over the unexpected lore-drop, she added, "We do live together though."

A synchronized gasp.

"Since when?! You never told us that!" one of them demanded, arms thrown wide.

"Since we started Uni! Have I never told you?"

She peeked up sheepishly as the three of them shook their heads, scandalized. Whoops. She could’ve sworn she had.

"Oh— Well, you know how I live with Rin, right?"

This time, they all nodded vigorously.

The youngest, almost reverently, murmured, "Ohmygod, Rintarou Suna, how could I forget?" which earned a laugh from (y/n).

She recalled him being equally as popular among some of her co-workers in the past.

"Yes, Rin—anyway," she continued, gathering what remained of her dignity, "basically we all moved in together during our first year. And… that's it, really. I swear I told you guys."

"You didn't," one said flatly, voice comically grave. "I'd have remembered."

Another leaned her elbows on the counter, flashing her a mischievous grin. "So you're telling me you're living with not one fittie, but three? And two of them are twins?"

(Y/n) tried not to flush at the implication. She shook her head with a huff, flicking a towel at the offender.

"Girl, you must have some fuuun," the high-schooler teased, nudging her with an elbow.

"That's so gross—no chance," (y/n) retorted, shaking her head.

One of them sucked in a breath and let out an almost envious sigh. "You're better than I am..." she said dreamily.

"Pffft," (y/n) snorted, rolling her eyes.

She brushed off her friends' teasing, already expecting as much. But under the mortification, somewhere deep beneath the surface, was a smile she couldn’t quite fight off.

Because maybe Atsumu wasn’t her boyfriend.

But he really liked to act like one.

And maaaybe she didn't actually mind.

[lemotmo]

All the reasons why I’m pretty sure this isn’t really Bobby’s funeral:

ONE: Tim and the show would never allow anything that big to leak.

From a TV show perspective it doesn't make a lick of sense. It does make sense however if you use this as ‘free promo’. They already used this tactic once before with the 'leaked' Buddie hug scene.

Think about it. We are always complaining that 911 doesn’t promote their show enough. But week after week we get bts shot by ordinary people like you and I. Those pics and videos are then spread all over social media to hype up the masses. It’s the best promo and it’s FREE. 🤷‍♀️

TWO: The Gerrard factor.

We have seen bts of Gerrard being the new 118 Captain. I do not believe for a single minute that Gerrard would want to come back to the 118, because he has got a great job on the Hot Shots set. Next to that, he was almost fully redeemed 🙄 when he helped Hen and Karen get Mara back. And if he would come back? He would never go back to his old ways of being an asshole. If there is anything he learned from Bobby? It is how to be a better Captain.

THREE: Not enough tears.

Why was no one crying at that funeral? Where were the tissues and the red-rimmed eyes? Chim’s face looked teary, but the others? You would at least expect May, Harry and Athena to be hit hard with this. But there was nothing. It was almost emotionless. That is not how you say goodbye to a great character as Bobby Nash. You would show the audience that his family and friends are going ‘through’ it by having them cry and show emotions. 😭

FOUR: The laughing and joking in between takes.

If Bobby was really dead? The actors would want to stay ‘in the moment’ of one of their own dying. Next to that, they would be sad about Peter leaving. They wouldn’t be joking around like this. They even took a picture in front of the casket, making funny faces. 😬

FIVE: Why was Tommy there?

The man isn’t part of the 118 and he has broken up with Buck. In fact, him and Buck parted on bad terms in 8x11, so what is he doing there? And walking in front as well? It doesn’t make any sense for him to be there up front.

Now I could understand that Tommy wanted to pay his respects to Bobby, but he would never be in that front position. It isn't his place.

I can definitely understand Gerrard being there, because he did take a liking to Bobby in the end. The man helped him get his new job.

SIX: Where were Bobby’s mom and brother?

These characters were just introduced and reunited. No way that they wouldn’t be there for that funeral. Especially Charlie, because he seemed like a really nice guy who genuinely loved his brother.

SEVEN: The switching name on the turnout jacket.

In the first bts we clearly see ‘Nash’ on the jacket, but then it randomly changes to ‘Carusso’? That is odd. There was no reason to hide the Nash jacket anymore, because it was literally one of the first things that leaked, after the funeral parade.

Also... who is Carusso? Have we ever seen a character or an extra with that name?

EIGHT: Hot Shots actor in a scene?

Now I’m not entirely sure about this one, because it might just be a coincidence. But in the bts from the scene where Chimney is yelling at Gerrard that he was only half a Bobby? One of the firefighters is called ‘Sanchez’ and he has a moustache. He was supposed to be the Eddie counterpart on Hot Shots. Why was he there?

NINE: The El Paso fire engine.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that this might just have been because they needed more fire engines and they reused the ones they already had. They can always digitally edit out the El Paso on the side. However, it was right there ‘front and center’ carrying the big American flag. Why would they use that car specifically to be so out in the open? They could have used one of the other real LAFD engines. Instead they used the El Paso one. So they can have more work editing everything out? It doesn’t make sense. 🤷‍♀️

TEN: Ryan/Eddie walks a bit in front of the others.

Now this one is far-fetched and possibly delusional. I agree. But remember I slept about an hour and a half last night after I was up all night going mentally insane over the funeral bts. 🥱

But when you look at the bts footage Eddie stands out in his suit, walking a tiny bit in front of the others, as if he needed to stay in front of them, so they could get a good shot of him. I’m actively wondering if all of this might actually be connected to him somehow.

Like, what if something happens to Eddie and he dreams up this ‘what if’ scenario where he no longer has a place on the 118, because Bobby died. He goes back to LA for the funeral and decides to stay and claim his spot on the team again. But then Gerrard takes over for some reason and denies him the job. He instead gives it to Tommy, who is now also back together with Buck and maybe living with him in Eddie’s old house. So Eddie won’t be able to live there anymore.

He will then basically see that everything he has ever loved and wanted (his job, his 118 family, his house and Buck) is no longer in his grasp and he will hate all of it.

Now remember… this is all highly speculative. We don’t know enough about the rest of the season to actually call this one ‘plausible’. But I feel like this might be something that 911 would be capable of doing. It is such a big trope when it comes to slow burn romances. I cannot help but think that they’ll want to touch upon as many romantic tropes as they can with Buddie, before they actually put them together.

ELEVEN: The Brad stories made by Oliver.

Oliver is a menace and I love him so.😋 He posted those two Brad pics (one where he is hugging Bobby and another one of just Brad) and then removed them after a few seconds. He knew exactly there would be people out there to take screenshots. What was the reason though? It has to be connected to that funeral we saw.

How? I’m not sure yet. We’ll have to see about that when we get more information about episode 16 and beyond.

TWELVE: The Peter Krause and Angela Bassett factor.

I don’t think that Peter is ready to leave 911 yet. He loves being on that show and he himself said in an interview in 2024 that he isn’t thinking of stopping just yet.

In another interview Angela stated that there couldn’t be an Athena without Bobby or something in that vein. Bathena is such a core couple on 911. Athena has already lost two loves: Emmett and Michael. One of them got killed. I don’t think they’ll do that to Athena for a third time. 911 simply is NOT that kind of show.

THIRTEEN: The Tim Minear factor.

Tim doesn’t kill off his main characters. He has no problems killing off guest characters, but when it comes to the mains? Nah. He knows exactly how popular Bobby and Athena are. They bring in a lot of viewers. I’m absolutely certain that there are people out there who would stop watching the show if one of these two characters died.

Tim did say that something would happen that would affect all the characters. I’m sure they are now trying to make us think that this is the event: Bobby dying.

But I’m thinking it might not all be what we think it is. Something else might happen that will change lives. Again, we can’t know that without enough information about the rest of the season. So we’ll have to wait and see.

But for now though… I’m thinking about 8x13 ‘Invisible’. I’m sat for Hen saving the day and for Eddie finally calling out his controlling mother. And maybe some Buddie hints in between all of that. 🙂‍↕️

[kyri45]

Not me abusing the asks to both share my love for the bioparents AU AND rant about the panels because none of my friends are in the LMK fandom and I'm suffering here so TAKE MY LOVE AND APPRECIATION ABOUT YOUR ART I guess x)

So first of all

I am a SUCKER for that kind of leaning in frames I'm going to print that and plaster it on my wall THEY ARE EVERYTHING /hj

I almost jumped of my chair when this one popped up YOU FED US GOOD its so worth the angst train incoming. Of course the panels before and after were equally as amazing but if I start going about every single panel we're still here in three days AT THE VERY LEAST LOL

Of course this one made me laugh like please their little faces

Using that to point out how much I love ALLLLLLL the silly faces you put in your comics I'm munching on them every single time they're crushy like chips or something just. Nom nom. Yummy.

Poor Nesha (Nesha? Nezha? Neja? I have no idea on how to write his name I already forgor LMAO) needs to be payed more. He tries to save MK and ends up dealing with two lovesick teenagers demons who have no concept of time/place/occasion apparently. Poor him. He gets a pat on the head for his troubles

And of course just the "NOPE I'M KEEPING HIM" mode and honestly we should have seen it coming- Red son was planning to courtnap him and didn't sleep in the past 5 days so he's not having any bullshit YOU'RE NOT TAKING HIS NOODLE BOY AWAY-

Could bet he spent so long thinking about the cournapping in the 5 past days his brain just cannot process that yeah maybe you need to let him down you're just going to drag him in more troubles- Either that or he's just going full protective mode. Both options are good anyways sooooo :)

We stan a protective boyfriend in this house.

---

And finally I'm SOOOOO hyped about whatever is coming next like I know that technically we're supposed to suffer but please I climbed up the angst train so many times now I'm just enjoying it by that point lol. It'll just make the following fluff even more worth it

Also I cannot wait to see MK's plan about the contract I'm so curious I'm dying I love you boys but I really want the plot to progress you can go back to kissing later lol

Finally, thank you for creating this AU. It's stumbling randomly upon it on my tik tok fyp that dragged me into watching Lego Monkie Kid and really THANK YOU FOR THAT. It's such an amazing show I CANNOT BELIEVE I didn't discovered it sooner so really thank for having created this comic because else I could have missed LMK and that would be just saaaad

Fun fact: since I had never interacted with LMK the first time I read your comic, I for some reason thought Macaque was a female (and I probably would have thought the same of Wukong if he wasn't called... well, Wukong because I randomly stumbled upon the myth's Wikipedia page at some point in my life XD). The shock I felt when I heard Macaque for the first time in the show because his voice was soooooo not what I expected x) I'm still laughing at myself to this day

So yeah, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, and I can't wait to see what you're going to pull next :D Wish you allllll the best <3

(I can totally wait, of course, it's just a figure of speech. Take your time, I could wait forever for the next chapter)

ahaha thank you for such a lovely comment!! Glad the scene gived "MINE" vibes as I was planning ahah.

Youu're welcome! It's an honor to serve this fandom. *bows*

[softtdaisy]

living the fantasy / Aaron Hotchner

summary. watching bodyguard with your bodyguard leads to you finally living your fantasy

words count. 2 011

what to expect. a very brief smut (not even sure we can call it that) but they have sex yes

a/n. this was absolutely not supposed to end like that but I got too involved with the scene so here it is (this was just a joke about the bodyguard watching bodyguard at first)

bodyguard masterlist | criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

Hotch had seen you angry before.

Because of something you had read online about yourself—or about him—you were even more defensive with him than when it’s about you.

Because your stalker made you change your plan—and you hated changing your plan, especially because of him.

Because things weren’t going the way they were intended—and it caused you some stress you clearly didn’t need.

So he wasn’t much surprised to see you like this. With a closed expression on your face, a look that could kill, and your fists tight and hidden under your crossed arms on your chest. Like you were ready to punch someone even though you weren’t the violent type. It wasn’t a first for him. 

No, Hotch was much more surprised by the fact the reason you were upset seemed frivolous to him.

“Are you really that upset?” he asked from the sofa, still watching you from there, preparing the popcorn. Poor Corn was paying the price of his mistake if he was listening to you.

You opened your mouth from the surprise and the shock that he was again acting like this was nothing. “How dare you ask? You have never seen Bodyguard!”

That was it.

The reason for your “fight.”

Your bodyguard had never seen the movie Bodyguard.

You learned this information through a very random conversation. 

You did an interview the other day where you had to go through a list of rom-com movies: the ones you had seen, the ones you didn’t, your favorites, and those you wouldn’t recommend. You were known by your fans as an expert on rom-coms, so it was no surprise that you had seen most of these movies and could give very detailed explanations on why you preferred one or another. 

When you came home, you made Hotch go through the same list just to tease him. He said he had seen Dirty Dancing at the theater because “I had dates when I was younger, you know,” Mamma Mia because one of his exes was a big musical fan, or Notting Hill with a British client who was nostalgic for home.

Yet, he hadn’t seen many recent ones—which you weren’t surprised to learn.

And then he confessed his betrayal. “Why would I have seen a movie that parodies my job?” He justified it very casually.

You took that personally. 

And decided that this Friday night would be a Bodyguard watch night.

You finally came back to the living room, still ignoring Hotch as much as you could. Something that amused him. He loved watching you pretend you didn’t care when you cared so much. 

He noticed your quick looks at him and the way your mouth was going upward slightly before you contained yourself. Trying so hard not to smile at him because you were supposed to be mad. Your fist loosened up only for you to play with your fingers—a habit he noticed when you were trying so hard not to speak. 

And so he waited until you sat by his side. “Do I have to like the movie?” he asked, turning his head to you and stealing some popcorn from your bowl. There he noticed it too: the way your eyes went down on his chest, hidden by a very tight black shirt that made his muscles more apparent and his arms look bigger. It wasn’t your fault Black made his skin look so good and you couldn’t resist some vein apparition. Blame a woman for having desire.

Then your eyes moved to his face again. “Don’t be surprised if I ask to change my bodyguard.” 

His laugh filled the room, and this time you couldn’t contain your smile. That sound was definitely your favorite.

To your biggest surprise, Hotch seemed focused on the movie playing.

To your biggest ignorance, he was only doing that because it mattered to you.

If you loved it this much, then he had to give it a try.

It became very clear at some point that the story on screen echoed the one you were living too. The singer being threatened by a stalker, having a bodyguard to protect her, and playfully fighting like cats and dogs. Hotch could see it. And he knew you did too.

Because again, he could read you like an open book. And it wasn’t only the movie that made you move like that on the couch; it was the feeling of seeing your own life on screen. The fear of never having a normal life again—even if your days weren’t normal before the stalker already. But it was your life. And you deserved to have it back.

Hotch didn’t think much—and maybe he should have considered what you were watching—but he put a hand on your thigh suddenly. “Stop moving,” he asked, his eyes still on the screen and his fingers resting on your leg. You could feel the heat of his skin against you, even through your pants. 

And you listened to him. Oh, you listened. Mostly because losing his touch was the worst thing that could happen right now.

And when the first love scene played on screen, you certainly couldn’t move. Even if you wanted to. And neither could Hotch. 

Maybe the way his fingers slightly gripped your thigh was moving. But maybe the way your hands naturally moved above his, intertwining your fingers with his, was indeed moving. Or maybe none of you were to blame since in front of you was playing the fantasy you were both trying to fight against.

You felt some kind of jealousy at the idea that the character got what you were wishing for—even though you knew the rest of the story.

Hotch felt some kind of disappointment that his professional behavior was preventing him from listening to his desire.

“He is right, you know,” he whispered after Frank—the bodyguard—decided to break off their affair right after their first night. Saying it could compromise his work, making him too personally attached to his client. 

And that was the truth, what was scaring Hotch the most. That if he let himself fall for you for real, then he wouldn’t be able to protect you properly. Even if, at this point, he was only pretending he hadn’t fallen already.

And if he were your bodyguard, he would have a hard time accepting that he failed his job. As your lover, he could never forgive himself.

But you didn’t answer. Actually, Hotch wasn’t even sure you had heard him. He gave you multiple quick looks through the movies, but your eyes never left the screen. 

Even the excellent profiler he was couldn’t point out if you were truly absorbed by the movie or if you were focusing on it to avoid the reality. He knew the reason for his incapacity was that his feelings were taking the lead. 

By the end of the movie, he heard you sob. He turned his head fully this time, not hiding that he was looking out for you. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” you said, pointing a finger at him and trying to hide behind a laugh why you wanted to cry. You always did that, hiding your true feelings behind a smile or a laugh. 

More than your romantic side that made it impossible for you not to cry, the movie was again hitting too close to home. The feeling that whatever you shared might never be enough. That reality might always bury your feelings and your relationship and make it impossible to keep it alive.

Without hesitating a single second, Hotch put his arm around your shoulder to bring you against him. “I won’t,” he added, and soon you felt his lips against your temple. A soft kiss that lasted longer than he intended to.

Because he needed it too. To feel you. For just a few seconds.

A few seconds. Something that encouraged you to slowly slip on his lap. Hotch followed your movement, his hands sliding on your back to your waist. Keeping you in place when you finally settle on him, your forehead against him. The song I Will Always Love You is playing in the back, like the echoes of your mind.

“Once,” you whispered. Your voice was trembling. Asking. Begging.

Hotch’s shaking breath was all you could hear. And feel it against your lips. 

He brought his hand to your hair, caressing it once, twice, before grabbing it slowly. “Once,” he replied in a whisper. 

He used his hand on your hair to bring your face closer, and closer, and closer, until there was no other choice for your lips to finally touch. It felt real and right to finally get to kiss Aaron Hotchner. 

You lived every single second of this kiss.

The taste of his lips—coffee and sweet from the popcorn.

The feeling of his lips—soft and a little dry—against yours.

The game of his tongue with yours—like a dance made only for you.

The softness of his finger on your cheek—caressing your skin.

The movement of his hips—moving unconsciously at your touch.

The acceleration of his heartbeat against you—letting you know he had the same desire as you.

To do more. To go further.

And so you weren’t surprised he followed your movement, letting him lay on the couch with you still on top of him. His resting hand on your back going under your shirt, caressing your naked skin like he needed to touch you. To feel you. To know you were real. 

And when you let your hand go under his shirt, when you felt his bulge grow against your thigh, you decided you couldn’t stop. Not now. Not this fast.

“Please” was all you said against his lips.

And maybe that was the hottest thing he had ever heard. You. Begging.

He tightened his grip on your hair, pulling your head so he could look at you. “Say it again,” he ordered. 

And you did it. You said it again.

You said please when his hand slowly moved from your back to your pants. 

You said please when you felt his fingers meeting your underwear, your skin, and your clitoris.

You said please, your head buried in his neck, when his fingers kept moving faster and faster.

You said please when he pulled away his hand before you could finish, only to get rid of your pants. 

He said please when you moved your hand to take away his jeans.

But you couldn’t say please no more when he finally got into you. Not when he was moving slowly first. Then faster, quickly. Harder, too.

And soon there were no words in any of your mouths except for both of your names echoing in the room. The silence from the movie being over and the noises made by your bodies meeting each other again, and again, and again.

You loved the way he was moving your head, like his grip on your hair, the way he needed to. 

Bringing your neck to his lips so he could kiss it.

Bringing your lips closer so he could kiss them too.

Or bringing your ear to his mouth so he could moan your name right into it. 

And when you both finished together, you thought that you might have found your new favorite melody. The way Aaron had a special way to moan your name. And the way he was so breathless under you now.

You moved your head, resting your chin on his chest to look at him. With his head slowly tilted backward so you could see his eyes closed, his eyelashes made him look like a soft man—certainly not the man who made you beg the whole way.

“Tell me,” you said in a low voice, your finger going up and down his chest slowly. “If I say please again, will we start again?”

He laughed. You felt it against you, in your bones and soul. 

He moved his head so he could look at you again. “Don’t tempt me.”

But the temptation was now too big to ignore. 

Tag List: @kiwriteswords @monzabee @raysmayhem-72 @kajjaka @pastelpinkflowerlife (if you want to be in it, ask me and I’ll be happy to add you x)

[starseungs]

college crush!changbin

college crush series .ᐟ ── bang chan ⋆ lee know ⋆ changbin ⋆ hyunjin ⋆ han ⋆ felix ⋆ seungmin ⋆ i.n

seo changbin x gn!reader. fluff, college au. 1.2k wc.

note: #4 on the college crush series! i was supposed to post this yesterday but i got a fever and couldnt finish it on time;; anyway here it is >< lightly proofread cause i need to sleep

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

College Crush!Changbin, whom you first got to know during your program’s first general assembly of the new academic year. He was late to the program and had the only option of sitting by your side, which was the closest available seat left at the back. 

College Crush!Changbin, who kept trying to start a conversation with you even though you weren’t the most responsive. It turns out he was a year above yours, making him your senior. After learning that fact, you begrudgingly started replying back out of common courtesy. Somehow, that didn’t seem to phase him at all, and you didn’t know whether to be grateful or confused about the fact.

College Crush!Changbin, who you slowly realized would be impossible to dislike because he just seemed like an overall great guy, even with all the curt replies you gave him earlier. Halfway through the assembly, he already had you actively engaged in a passionate exchange of ideas regarding what’s the best soup dish. You never voiced it out, but you had a much more entertaining time with him than the actual assembly program.

College Crush!Changbin, who you would always see around campus from then on. Whenever you two end up locking eyes, his gaze immediately lights up with recognition, and just seconds later, he’ll be right in front of you, topics ready for small talk. You could always see his friends exchanging knowing glances at each other before catching your stare and sheepishly waving. Most of the time, the scene ends with said friends having to drag Changbin away to attend their classes.

College Crush!Changbin, who messages you every once in a while to invite you on a food trip to new spots he discovers. You once asked him why he was approaching you instead of his other closer friends, only to receive the simple reply of “they’re busy.” Not to say that you didn’t buy it one bit, but he offers to pay every time, so really, who were you to refuse in this economy?

College Crush!Changbin, who drives you two around in a navy blue SUV. There was this little voice inside of your head questioning whether or not it was a normal thing for not-so-close friends but also not-so-acquaintances to have casual intimate outing plans like this, but another part of you also acknowledged that everyone already knew Changbin as a generally friendly guy. That reasoning soothed your suspicions, even though deep down you were also thinking of how many people he treats like this on a daily basis.

College Crush!Changbin, who surprisingly made you feel really comfortable with him. His presence naturally came with an aura of security, both physically and mentally. He was easy to talk to and calming to be with. He never even once made you feel like you had something to be distressed about—and that’s not just because he seems to like paying for other people. You now acknowledge why everyone and their mothers liked the guy.

College Crush!Changbin, whom your friends tease you about eventually. You gently brushed their words off, claiming that the two of you weren’t involved in that way and that he was just a senior friend of yours. Though, at the same time, you couldn’t blame them for it. Who exactly would platonically give someone a bouquet of roses and a tray of chocolates for Valentine's Day?

College Crush!Changbin, who you cornered in the campus’ botanical garden one day after his Valentine's stunt to finally ask about his actions. He comes clean about how he became interested in you after the day you first met, which only grew the more you talked. His uncharacteristically apprehensive confession was then followed by his offers to stop all his actions if you felt uncomfortable with them.

College Crush!Changbin, who had to literally cover his mouth to stop himself from yelling in shock when you told him you’d give him a chance. You could only laugh at his over-the-top reaction, which consisted of jumping up and down while his hands vibrated into fists in happiness. Everyone was only left to wonder what had Changbin grinning like a lottery winner for the next twenty-four hours.

College Crush!Changbin, who would never forget to send you daily greetings. It didn’t matter what time of the day it was—at one point, he even sent you a “good afternoon” for no particular reason. Updates were also abundant. You never went on a day without him sharing parts of his, either in real time through chats or at night when he calls you before you sleep. And honestly, it was becoming one of your favorite aspects of your day.

College Crush!Changbin, who could do anything for you in a heartbeat, no questions asked. One time, you briefly mentioned a collector’s item you’ve been actively searching for in passing, which somehow ended up with him on a dedicated search for it around the city. You were shocked at how many locations he went to, even giving you updates on the stock status in each one.

College Crush!Changbin, who loves talking to you because your voice soothes him so much. He swears that just hearing you talk to him could melt away all the stress and exhaustion piled up on him throughout the day. At the same time, he also likes seeing your expressions whenever you’re talking about something that interests you. The way your face forms differently depending on your stance on the matter at hand entertains him. Overall, you’re his healing.

College Crush!Changbin, who looks forward to your replies to his messages every time. He knows the things he sends you could get a bit random at times, but he relishes how receptive you are to all of his shenanigans anyway. You make him feel seen.

College Crush!Changbin, who waits for you outside your classes just to surprise you with a ride home or a spontaneous lunch or dinner date. Mornings aren’t left out either, as it also wasn’t uncommon for Changbin to show up at your doorstep with a takeout breakfast for the two of you in hand. Keeping you well-fed and relaxed fills him with an indescribable satisfaction.

College Crush!Changbin, who enthusiastically talks about you to his family, despite them never actually meeting you yet. His sister always pokes him on the side to tease him whenever he gets that lovesick look on his face again, while his parents listen to him attentively. They couldn’t wait until the day he finally brings you to their home.

College Crush!Changbin, who took you out on a seaside candle-lit dinner for your birthday. He made sure to have the reservation happen the night before your actual birthday so that you could celebrate with your family and/or friends if you wished. Your eyes almost welled up with tears at the thoughtfulness behind it.

College Crush!Changbin, who always says that you deserve the best and shouldn’t expect less. When you asked him if it was reasonable for him to go through such lengths for you even if you haven’t even made it official yet, he only shrugged and said that it was his way of practicing how to treat you when you finally made him yours.

College Crush!Changbin, whom you pulled down to kiss right then and there after he uttered those words. You would be a fool to further deprive this man of the love he deserves after months of solid dedication to you. It didn’t take long for you to press another kiss on his lips either, because you had an inkling he’d react endearingly explosively in shock again.

College Boyfriend!Changbin, who loves you like you’re royalty, always ends the night thinking of how honored he is to be beside you.

MASTERTAG ━ STATUS: OPEN — ASK OR COMMENT 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @wnbnny @xocandyy @minluvly @moon0fthenight @estellaluna @hanjsquokka @starlostastronaut @minsueng @l3visbby @myjisung

[maikissed]

the day I saw your eyes, I stayed

jude bellingham x reader

warnings: none, just a tad of sexual tension, yeah

note: there is going to be part 2! I planned to write the whole story in one shot but I gotta go to sleep now and was too excited about this rubbish (jk, I love it tbh). And he scored today, whoop sorry for any mistakes!!!!

Rose got herself a new boyfriend. The name brought up in presence of your girlfriends caused much of a fuss. It was a grand revelation and as much as it surprised you as well, you did not share the enthusiasm as every other girl in the room. Not because you felt envious, jealousy was never your thing, you rather grew worrisome. The excitation over the fact that Rose secured herself a football player of such range – famous, a hot topic, high quality player, one of the most valuable characters in the England national team, highly payed, and to add to that: uncommonly gorgeous - absolutely knocked your friends of their feet, but to you… To you it was a sign of massive trouble. People like him belonged to a world where individuals had their impeccable ways to draw from their fame, money and phenomenon as much as they could, despite the morality or ethics. Rose always mingled among various groups of people, there were musicians, actors, even politicians. She was a lovely girl, very pretty, her modelling career developed quickly, spectacularly. But she still haven’t made her name the way she aimed to. You suspected the boys she chose were always an occasion, a special addition to make her reach for more, to be seen, to feel special and unique. She was determined, regardless of the consequences, regardless of the fact how many times she has suffered and burned herself even almost to the point of absolute destruction. It felt awful to even reminisce it. But that’s how it’s been so far, it was the path she has chosen. Although this time this whole situation felt much different, there was a spark in her eyes that could tell you many things. But you would define it this way: she intended to hold onto him, she wanted to keep him. He seemed like the greatest prize. But who would have thought that the massive trouble you feared from the very start would be your burden to deal with?

Jude Bellingham.

Girls were over the moon when the time has come and Rose invited you all to join them in a private lounge in one of the most exclusive clubs in London. You scoffed when you heard the name of the place, you remembered the time when you and Lucia tried to sneak in there, but the bodyguard was too smart to fall for your theatrics. Only precisely selected people could party there. It was one of those grand and fancy places. So you found yourself invited, at last. Yet you weren’t very thrilled about the way you were about to spend your Saturday night. It turned out you would be the only single person there.

And him? The man, the hot topic himself? He was taller than you envisioned, maybe the hair added to that? His smile truly was bright, he was well built, broad shoulders, but not too muscular, well, he was an athlete. The Brummie dialect annoyed you at the start, but the itch seemed to cease as you payed attention to the tone of his voice, there was nothing particular about it, it was just right, good, not screechy, not too deep just… pleasant. He was an amiable guy, you thought to yourself, polite and friendly at the first contact. You realised you were a careful observer until he turned to you to greet. Now you were very much noticed, now you had to act as a part of the events, not a shadow and analyser. And situation very much changed. Time seemed to slow down so suddenly, you found yourself in the strangest state of unconsciousness, like a scene in a movie where the background blurs and any noise is muted, when the spectator is deprived of any other senses despite the sight to notice those specific details that are supposed to made him feel the sublimity of a given moment. And the source of it was in his eyes, you realised, and the way he smiled softly as he extended his hand to you. It was strange and disturbing, his eyes seemed to be the darkest ones you’ve ever seen, but you most definitely had seen eyes like his before, no doubt about it. You took a breath, blinked, fought to not fall into this depth that almost sucked you in. He was smiling, now something slightly impudent about it, and you realised he truly was stunningly gorgeous. Strangely, insanely attractive. Just a simple look into his eyes made you stumble into a realisation that there was something different about this man. And it frightened you.

You did say your name back, did you?

As the night went by you decided to stay in your attentive observer state. You felt safer there, although decency inquired you to engage in few conversations with your friends. Tonight you felt tense, carefully sipping the wine, you tried with all your might to relax and stop examining so intensely the boy seated opposite you. Few new conclusions you came into in the last hour was the fact that he was a great interlocutor, he listened as well, and his smile was one of the most pleasurable things you’ve experienced in your lifetime. You just couldn’t take your eyes off. And another conclusion was that him and Rose was nothing of exclusive. No lingering stares, no secret touches. After all, they met quite recently. She wondered if she bagged him already. And if so, would they all be there if she did? He did not seem like the kind to make such effort to get himself a girl he was not seriously interested in. Rose was not the type to act restrained and unavailable. She crawled into many beds the first night she met someone. You kept yourself far from casual hook-ups and one night stands, just a simple thought of it made you uncomfortable. But for her it was a common thing, if you could use such words. So, was he really interested?

After a while all of your friends decided to use the night to the fullest as the alcohol finally kicked in, rushing to the dancefloor and you truly couldn’t find the spur to join them. You were seriously thinking about taking a French leave. And you almost succeeded.

“You’re not enjoying yourself much, are you?” a well known voice reached you from behind and you turned your head in its direction.

Something in your gut jumped as you spotted Jude. He took a seat beside you. You smiled as his scent reached you, fresh, citrus with addition of something stronger and… alluring.

“I’ve had a long day. Tired, I guess” a safe and simple answer.

His full attention was on you, no one here to accompany you. It begun to feel overwhelming because you did not expected his gaze to be so intense.

“I know the feeling. Find myself in a constant state of weariness lately, cannot get rid of it” he played with his glass, the liquid looked like orange juice.

“Well, you live quite the fast and exciting life” you noted, observing as the corner of his mouth rose a little at your comment.

“Where are you from?” he asked, not continuing the subject you just raised.

“Here, London, born and raised” you smiled again before lowering your gaze, finding the glass of wine interesting “Became as gloomy and morose as this city”

“I wouldn’t describe you with such words” his voice was soft when he said it, something itched in you to ask what words would he use to describe you, but raising the glass of wine up to your lips saved you from that. You hoped you didn’t blush.

“My grandmother always says that I’m an old soul. Emphasizes it like it’s a virtue” you continued.

“That’s a very interesting thing to say about someone. Mine says that I’m a lovely companion although I use way too foul language and it’s scandalous” he frowned funnily and you laughed at the information, he quickly accompanied you.

“Well, I haven’t yet got the occasion to hear some of that tonight”

“I’m trying to be a gentleman” he murmured “It would be improper to throw fucks around in presence of a pretty girl” a lively glint in his eyes as he looked at you.

Now you definitely blushed.

The conversation flowed from there, and you realised you grew more comfortable with each passing minute. He truly was a great listener, and a good companion. He made you laugh many times and suddenly you stopped regretting leaving your apartment for this night out. He was not daft or arrogant as you might have presumed before you met him, being smothered by all this money he had and a name he’s gotten himself at such young age. The complexity of his persona could be spotted in his eyes as you payed closer attention, but it was his words and the way he picked on any subject you brought, that expressed his maturity and wide perception. You haven’t met a guy like him in a long time.

“What are you guys doing here? Come on down, join us!” it was Charlotte’s comment as she came to the longue after a while.

You haven’t even realised how much time has passed and how much alcohol you have already poured into yourself. You only picked on that as you stood up, dizziness hit you like lighting but you composed yourself, agreeing on Charlotte’s and then Jude’s proposition. As soon as you joined the dancefloor, Rose spotted you both, throwing her hands around Jude, guiding him deeper, keeping him closer. He kept his eyes on you as she did it and a strange feeling stroked you as you kept his gaze. Charlotte grabbed you by your hands, singing the words out loud, the song was energetic and lively, you laughed at your friend. Others from your pack nowhere to be seen. So you loosened up and tried to keep up with your drunk companion. The dancefloor became quite chaotic, people jumping around, your eyes landing on Jude from time to time and to your surprise he was looking your way as well. There was a lean and tall guy that jumped in front of Jude, almost stumbling over him and you laugh at that, seeing that Jude laughed as well, his attention still on you. You wanted to share this fun with him directly, but it was forbidden since the realest fact of this night was that he was not yours to have.

“I need to pee!” Rose shouted near you and you turned, watching as she grabbed Charlotte with her, leaving the dancefloor.

You stopped and decided to follow your friends but felt someone’s presence behind your back before you made any move.

“Now I can tell you’re enjoying your night!” Jude called next to your ear, this way you could hear him well despite the thumping music.

When you turned around you noticed how close he stood, you had to raise your head to look at his face, his big and dark eyes gazing down at you, full lips twisted into an amused smile. You returned the smile.

“You are a terrible dancer” you shouted back to him, your voice filled with laughter.

“That’s a fact” he nodded “But you’re quite good, show me more” he reached for your hips to draw you deeper into the dancefloor and you laughed out, throwing your head back as he lead you with him.

You have not payed much attention to the closeness of your bodies as long as the songs were quick and your movements kept rapidly changing with the rhythm. Still, you haven’t realised the sound slowing, a more sensuous song sounded from the loudspeaker, you knew this one. If the reason could break through the basses that reached your ears, you would finish your dance right this moment. But the fact was that it did not. So you continued, with your hands placed at his shoulders you begun to move your hips. Your eyes closed as you turned around, your back to him, he was not touching you, not directly. He took your hands in his and you started to raise it up in the air, you smiled when you felt his breath on your ear. Your joined hands stayed up longer, his on the other hand slowly trailed lower and lower, down your forearms, then your shoulders, then down your body. His touch sure yet lenient and soft at the same time electrified you. Carefully and attentively, making sure to not touch your breasts on the way, he rested them on your hips, feeling the rhythm you kept on. You were not sure if it was him that pressed on you or was it purely your movement, but your back met with his front fully, and a sharp intake of breath stuck in  your throat at the realisation. His hands still rested on your hips, making your body move with no pause. You were close, too close, you could already feel too much. But you found it difficult to part with him, to stop it and call it improper. Your eyes wide open but blind. You only focused on the sense of touch, feeling him moving with you. Your hands fell down to reach his head and then levelled on his nape and you kept them there. Feeling something growing inside of you, along with a rough shot of adrenaline that made your heart beat strongly against ribs. Once more his breath landed on your ear, close, closer. A strange sensation squeezed your throat and you realised you swallowed back a moan. It was like a rough strike, you turned around to face him, with intention to take a step back, but he held you closer, pressing his palm against your back. You sighed and met his eyes. Dark, darker. You wanted to run.

“Thank you for the dance” you said innocently and he watched the movement of your lips as you spoke.

A daring smirk appeared on his mouth and you shuddered. Were you trapped now?

You had to run. So you did.

[daistea]

Hi Daistea! You are absolutly THE Mithrun writer! You catch his essence so well

I was wondering if you could write a prequel to "first burn"? I would love to hear more of his thoughts about cultivating his desire for intimacy and affection with reader

Thank you so much for doing such good for the fandom!

Thank you friend! Here you go, though I kinda just.. rambled with this one. I was just having fun, I hope you like it.

Mithrun x gn Reader

Post-Canon / spoilers maybe

word count: 2,200

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It wasn’t as if there was a handbook on how to cultivate desires. It wasn’t as if ‘normal’ people understood and recognized the process of desire. It wasn’t as if Mithrun had any clue what he was doing. 

 That, in and of itself, felt like a swaying tightrope he was only barely balancing on. Atop that, discomfort was a new concept. The end result was only more stark, suffocating discomfort. Mithrun usually knew what to do; if he ever had to figure something out, the solution came quickly, effortlessly. He was beginning to think he’d been spoiled in that area. Having such unfettered focus lended itself to problem solving. 

 Mithrun watched you. Perhaps he could be the one to write the handbook on desire. And there’d be an entire chapter dedicated to you. Was it possible to have a desire for desire? He supposed as much. He was stuck on the outer rims of the feeling, staring through a dusty window at what could be if only he could be. He was a planet stuck in the farthest orbit from the sun, and it was cold, and nobody really saw him there in the sky because he was so damn far away. 

 You ran your fingers through your hair. His attention snapped back to you like a taut rubber band. There must be a footnote in the handbook on cultivating desires about your small habits. You fidgeted, you shifted, your smile twisted into different shapes depending on your mood and every one of these habits must be footnoted. 

 Mithrun couldn’t help but make a grimace. He rested his chin in his palm and tore his gaze away, instead following the lines of the wooden panels in the wall of the restaurant. The handbook was going to be long— Gods, he wasn’t going to write it, he didn’t care enough to put in the effort. Nevertheless, one of the jagged lines in the wood paneling unlocked something within his brain. The very fact that he relentlessly took note of your every minute detail said something. 

 What did it say? Mithrun moved onto the next line in the wood. It gave him nothing. What did it say, Mithrun? What was the implication? It isn’t a hard question, Mithrun. Just answer. Just say it. Just—

 He clenched his fist. He clenched so hard that his knuckles turned white. You were still chatting away with the restaurant owner and he had half a mind to grab you by the waist and teleport you elsewhere, a place where you’d only pay attention to him. Only him. Perhaps that would answer the devastatingly easy implications that confounded him. 

 A wandering part of his mind, a traveler— which was a new feature: wandering— brought forth a query. What would you say about his inner turmoil? Most likely something along the lines of ‘I’m proud of you for trying, don’t pressure yourself so much.’ And he would ignore your words entirely because Mithrun wanted to want. 

 He must do something. There was that objective knowledge of what the situation required, it wasn’t exactly desire, but it was motivating. You deserved more. You deserved to have your hand held. You deserved kisses on your neck. You deserved gasps and moans and weak knees. He imagined the scene; you, beneath him, or in his lap, perhaps. You, closing your eyes, brows furrowed, whimpering as you sunk down and…

 Nothing. Mithrun knew he was making some sort of face, because a half-foot scurried past his table with wide eyes. Whatever. 

 Enough, he decided. It had been forty years since he had experienced any form of physical intimacy. While some feelings were more difficult to connect with, frustration was one of the easiest to identify. He’d had enough.

 Without a word to you— he probably should’ve given you a word, but he was in a hurry— Mithrun called upon his mana, the lingering spirits, and clenched his fist. A fourth of a second passed, a blink of an eye. He didn’t mean to end up on the kitchen floor of his apartment, but fine. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but you.

 Mithrun sighed and laid back. The tile was cool on the exposed skin of his hands as he stretched out his limbs. There were cobwebs in the corners of the ceilings. He could already feel a dull headache coming on from the hardness of the floor. Okay. 

 Routine: eyes closed, deep breaths, sinking into the floor and smelling the air and hearing the sounds. His kitchen smelled like soap. The sounds were absent. Images of you flickered through his mind, a rope gently tied around his body, pulling him deeper into the warm flood-waters. He imagined your arms, your waist, your thighs, your lips, your eyes, your laugh, your gasps, your stare, your hair, your hands, your knees, your chest, your stomach. Then, running his hands up your waist. Holding you. How would you feel with your body against his? How would your hand fit with his? 

 For a moment, Mithrun felt his heart pull and twist. Objectively, that was the physical reaction to adrenaline hormones in one’s body; anxiety. Yet, he didn’t believe he was anxious. He took a moment to wrack his brain, and the process of doing so always reminded him of the file room in the old Canaries headquarters. Papers would flip across his thumb as he searched for the right information. All he needed was a glimpse of the right set of letters, the right combination of words, until he found what he needed. 

 For an elf, forty-ish years wasn’t too long. Mithrun had spent the majority of his life as an entirely different person— may he rest in agony. He sometimes looked back on memories in order to identify a feeling. Past Mithrun would feel that pull and twist when Lord Kerensil made those snide comments about Mithrun’s biological father. That twist and pull was always present when Obrin idly, innocently, mentioned an investment deal he’d been allowed to participate in, as the heir to the House of Kerensil. That twist and pull was present when he saw Sultha send Obrin those wry smiles, how her lips twisted in a way that made Mithrun sick to his stomach. 

 To even dare associate that feeling with you brought the same nausea. 

 Yet, perhaps it wasn’t about you. 

 Perhaps it was him. Perhaps it was the self-loathing. He’d always carried it like a disease, though the symptoms only appeared in certain moments. Lately, though, he’d been sick with it more often than not. The happiness of a new purpose was parallel to the newfound connection with his more negative emotions. Mithrun supposed that it was person-hood; anger, sadness, joy, attraction, deep and intense adoration that made him physically ill when he meditated for too long about how he couldn’t quite feel the allure of a kiss. 

 That was his person-hood. Mithrun’s life was a constant struggle, and the kitchen floor felt abnormally cold that evening. 

 Kabru suggested that Mithrun keep track of new developments. It would help him, Kabru said. Mithrun had no protests nor interest in the theory, but nothing better to do, so he had a journal. Thus far, only one page in the journal had been filled. It said: 

1. Cheese is alright, preferably on bread

 Very exciting, at least for some— you and Kabru, particularly. Mithrun had a preference! Despite your excitement, you still put up your hands and waved them as if to ward off the positivity, “You’ve always had preferences, you know. It was just easy to overlook them.”

 Mithrun supposed you were right. He had plenty to complain about. That was preference-based, in a way. Obsession over the demon was such a large issue, though, that it left no room for anything else. It was like a flood, seeping into every corner, taking every inch, leaving nothing untouched and dry. 

 The second item in the journal was:

2. Black coffee, two sugars

 That was how he used to drink it. Some things never changed. Even if the timing was different throughout the year, the sun would always rise and set.

3. Desiring some sort of physical contact involving hands (with [name] specifically)

 And when Mithrun desired something, he would have it. Inevitable. He knew from an objective standpoint that carrying on with that view would only lead to disappointment, but the desire to change did not arise.

 Mithrun began taking your hand whenever the opportunity presented itself. 

 The first time, you glanced at him. Your lips were parted and your eyes the slightest bit wider. You looked down at your intertwined fingers. Mithrun did not dare look away from your face as you studied how each finger fit together like pieces of a puzzle— designed specifically for each other. 

 When you turned your head back to the person you were originally speaking to and resumed your conversation, satisfaction like a warm blanket settled over Mithrun’s shoulders and chest. He may have looked a bit smug without realizing it, for your conversation partner sent him a look. 

Next:

4. The palm is more sensitive than I remember. I think it would be okay to use it. 

 Mithrun pressed the palm of his hand against the small of your back. You had no reaction. He wasn’t sure whether to be pleased that you accepted his touch so readily, or displeased that he saw no acknowledgement. He settled for some in-between feeling that even Past Mithrun could not identify. 

 Without putting it into certain words, Mithrun had an idea of why his skin felt so sensitive to your touch. For one, he’d gone so long without physical touch that his nerves were desert dwellers encountering an oasis for the first time. Secondly, it was the broadest part of the hand. The fingers were important, of course, they wrapped and they clutched and they stroked. Yet, the palm was deeper. It was taken for granted. Everybody in possession of fingers used them every day of their life. They were mundane, almost. The palm, though, was for cradling. The palm was for tracing. The palm was—

 Mithrun lifted your hand without a second thought. He’d nearly forgotten what shame felt like, it was another one of those objective feelings that he could identify in others but not quite connect with. Shame was not present at that moment, and he was pleased for that fact. If he had shame, then he would not experience the feeling of your palm against his lips. 

 He held your wrist with both hands. Your skin smelled like soap, and it was not exactly soft. There were lines and ridges on the palm, but he took a moment to memorize the shape of each one against his lips as he pressed a kiss to the spot between your thumb and index finger. 

 Your conversation partner looked away. You looked at Mithrun. He looked at you, his good eye fluttering open and taking in the sight of your expectancy and surprise and fondness and embarrassment. 

 Three seconds passed. Mithrun knew it was three seconds that passed because he counted. One, pause. Two, pause. Three, pause. 

 You swallowed and looked back at the person you’d been speaking to. Mithrun knew them, but didn’t care enough to allow his brain to make that connection between their face and his memories. His gaze was solely on you. Your profile was silhouetted against the orange sunset of Melini. 

 “Anyway, what were you saying?” You asked the person Mithrun didn’t care to identify— because you were the newest flood. You spread in a similar manner, filling up every inch and leaving nothing dry. Something in the back of his mind told him that that wasn’t healthy. Where there was a flood, there was mold and rot and destruction. 

 Whatever. 

 “The state of Melini,” your conversation partner said, “it’s really becoming a nation now.”

 You nodded, “It’ll take time, but we’ll get there.”

 That was such a generic statement, but you believed it. Perhaps the commonplace quality of the statement was what made it less feasible. Yet, when coming from your lips, Mithrun could almost imagine it. 

 Your lips. You said the most wonderful things, even when they were totally common and quotidian. You could tell Mithrun that the sun had exploded, and despite the clear existence of the sun in the sky at that very moment, he’d agree with you simply to see you satisfied.

 The desire to kiss you hit Mithrun like a slap to the face— no, actually, Past Mithrun had been slapped several times before, and he always knew it was coming. The desire to kiss you hit him like the taste of cheese on toasted bread, like the pleasure of a black coffee with two sugars, like the shiver down his spine when your palm pressed against his. 

 And finally, the handbook of desire was written. There were no words. It didn’t need words. 

 He desired you. 

 What even was attraction? What even was happiness and anger and desire? It was so subjective that the answer would never satisfy the inquirer. And Mithrun was tired of dissatisfaction.

 And it was time to act. 

 And it was time to open the gates. 

 And it was time to drown in desires he’d never let himself acknowledge. 

5. Start slowly. Whatever happens, happens. You can want now. 

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

[ogorodami]

Finally read F&B in full, some thoughts:

Oh, they ruined the Greens that bad, huh.

Weird, still haven't found that part where George was like "noooo dark fantasy royal women nooo stop that you can't do that dark fantasy royal women, you're girls and all girls should be friends and never fight like dem boys do all the time" I looked everywhere, guys

I really enjoyed Rhaenyra and Alicent as characters. I mean, was I supposed to not enjoy the cutthroat rivalry between two powerful, rich, entitled women who would burn the whole world down for their families and have the absolute audacity to salivate at the thought of destroying their enemies?

It's so funny how the show seems to completely trust Mushroom's pornbrain account of events, except when it comes to Nettles (who doesn't even exist in the show) or absolute lowlife scumbags like Hue and Ulf.

Nettles has got to be the showrunners' sleep paralysis demon: bonds with a dragon without any "superior blood" (gasp, the horror), cucks their one true qween (which is solely on Nyra's creepy ass hubby), exposes her racism by just existing, lives free while their fave ends up in dragon dung. Yeah, traumatized Dany stans wouldn't have survived that. I'm willing to bet that Nettles' removal from the story was the first order of business, they were never going to bring her in.

The way it's implied that Daemon's feelings for Nettles are some true love shit because she's not as young as the girls he's used to molesting (she’s 16).

Book Daemon's whole personality not being some edgy fanfic male lead manchild took me by surprise, not gonna lie. Turns out, he had genuine connection to people in his life besides precious Rhae Rhae. You know, like people usually do outside of Condalland. In fact, I wouldn't even consider Rhaenyra "the love of his life", that's either Laena or Nettles.

I will never take show Mysaria seriously after reading the book. I mean, she’s boring and pretentious, so I pretty much forget about her existence half the time, but wow, they really made westeros diddy a fighter for women and children’s rights. That’s embarrassing.

Book Aegon loved Aemond a lot more than his brother loved him. Doesn't change the fact that Aemond's betrayal in the show makes zero sense, and you know what book Aemond doesn't do? That.

Man, Aegon's post-munch arc is dark. as. fuck. Him watching Sunfyre die, his solitude, the unfathomable pain, his quiet return to the capital. The motherfucking burning of the Shepherd and his followers. Oh my god, what if something happens? What if Ryan and Sara just leave hotd for any reason? What if TGC will be allowed to devour all these scenes? What then, what would we even do with our lives?

jk the smallfolk will storm the Dragon Pit inhabited by actual man-eating dragons because of misogyny or something. And not because they were starving, isolated, and terrified out of their minds under Rhaenyra's rule. Then it will never be mentioned again and the show won't even attempt to tackle other characters after her death. Alicent will probably poison Aegon on Dragonstone and steal the rest of his arc.

I was so ready for the Mad King Aegon II Targaryen, I was not prepared for the "pay me money for your betrayal, oh and that toddler usurper will be raised in my castle" Aegon II Targaryen. C'mon man, you could've at least killed Mushroom.

People arguing over which queen is more feminist while completely sleeping on Gaemon's mom and her gf, rip legends

Aegon being granted a dignified death despite all the humiliation he has suffered

Cregan Stark ratio'ing everybody and being the only adult in the room (literally)

It would've made a lot more sense for either Alicent or Aegon (preferably Alicent) to be the main protagonist of the show. And I don't mean Condal's idea of a protagonist, just the central POV. Make Rhaenyra a wet-eyed victim, whatever, but don't butcher such a grand story down to her tiny ass arc. She spends at least a full third of it in mourning for her children and that's exactly what CondalHess chose to focus on for the better part of s2. In a show that's supposed to be the prequel to Game of Thrones. You know? THE Game of Thrones? Well, sucks to suck.

muppet tallys

[brucewaynehater101]

I'll admit I love the dadification of Tim by bruce, but I also love tim being much more of a perfectionist and being more efficient than Bruce.

And Bruce would say he loves it- but like. He now sees the problem with working with himself.

__________

A mission goes completely sideways, and it wasn't as if it was the first time it happened. In fact, in the end, they still fulfilled their objectives... just... not in the way they were supposed to do.

"...are you mad at me?" Bruce asks, fingers holding on to the bat-steering wheel so hard he could swear they were white under his black glove.

If he was with Jason or Dick, he'd know his answer. 'No, I'm not mad. I'm disappointed' because it was a gentle answer. It was the right answer. He was a father, a trying one, at least. He could be gentle. He could be nice.

Tim, however, could not.

"What do you *think*, genius?"

Bruce flinches. It's been a while since he felt the familiar signs of tears in his eyes. He forces himself not to cry. He was a *grown man*, he refused to feel shamed by a 15 year old's scolding - a rough glove strokes at the wetness on his cheek.

Tim sighs. "Bruce, cmon. Don't cry. I promise I'm not mad at you, okay? I just-- I got in a bad mood and it was wrong of me to take it out on you. I'm sorry, okay? You did great, Bruce!" Tim smiles at him.

Bruce hears himself sniffle. *God*. He can't believe he's crying. Tim's eyes widen in a panic. "Hey, hey, cmon! No more tears, big guy! I'll ask Alfred to whip up some of your favorites, how about it? And if he can't do it then we can always just order out, right? What do you want, Bruce?" Tim hits the autodrive and wraps his arms around him.

He cannot believe he's crying in a teenager's arms right now.

"We'll be home in a bit, and you did a great job, I promise. I'm not mad at you, in fact! I'm proud!" Something feels lighter in Bruce's chest. He squishes it down.

Tim takes off Bruce's cowl and strokes his hair. "Repeat after me, I did good. Say it Bruce."

"...I did good." Bruce grumbles, leaning into Tim's touch.

Tim smiles at him teasingly. "Didn't hear you, B. Say it louder."

Bruce frowns. "I did good." He says firmly.

"Good job, B!" Tim laughs.

The batmobile slows to a stop in the cave. "Oh look, we're home." Tim remarks casually, as if he didn't have an armful of a teary grown-up. "Let's go, Bruce. You go wash up while I update the logs."

Bruce nods.

Tim walks off to the computer, and for the first time in a long while, Bruce feels small and happy again.

Fuck. I love how this highlights that Tim wouldn't be a perfect father, especially considering some of his "bad" habits or behaviors. He'd try and he'd correct, but, like all parents, he's bound to mess up every once in awhile. It happens. The best part is that Tim corrects his behavior, admits fault, and tries to make up for it.

Good parenting, Tim! (genuine)

We could add on that Tim is a teenager. Emotions are heightened because puberty is a fucking asshole. So, he may occasionally take his frustrations out on Bruce (in this AU). He may suddenly burst into tears, worrying Bruce, or feel the intense need to scream.

He's not gonna be the best fantastic dad (especially since he really shouldn't be parenting an adult as he's a teen), but he's gonna try.

It'd also be cool to see Tim, in learning to gentle parent, eventually gentle parenting himself and teaching Bruce to utilize the same methods with his kids (also, I can go on a full fucking rant on how it shouldn't be named "gentle parenting" cause it's really "paying forward parenting," but I'm not gonna).

Anyways, the scene you wrote was really sweet and I very much enjoyed it

[chillinglikeashilling]

Lord forgive me for paying attention to the YT comments section but I really want people who claim Annie was treated as a less 'desired love interest' than Mary to remind me which of them was told she didn't have any business being near them by both Micheal A and Michael B Jordan.

"Oh but Mary is shown to be the focus of desire and Annie isn't"

Are we forgetting that the first thing Stack tells Mary to do is kick rocks? That one of the first things we learned about their past relationship is that he left her in the middle of the night without any communication at all?

Yes Smoke also left Annie but that to me is representative of the fact that both twins always chose each other over either of their respective lovers, or anyone else in their lives. At the very least we know from the fact that he married her that Smoke considered Annie someone in his life, who was not Stack, that he could build a life with. She made him a mojo bag so it's not like Smoke left in the middle of the night.

And it's not like either twin is best friends with the other's lover but Annie clearly gets so much more consideration and respect from Stack than Mary does from Smoke. Smoke would clearly rather Stack and Mary never even have been together in the first place but even from (what was supposed to be) the opening night of the Juke we see Stack and Annie working together to manage Smoke and the business. Annie is being paid to cook there sure, but to me it's clear that she was always supposed to have a huge role in the business.

I'm not saying the movie is perfect or that people can't have their own opinions but even if we're appealing to the respectability argument- Annie is the only person in the main cast apart from Sammie with very little 'sin' on her record. For one thing she's the only woman of the three love interests who isn't cheating on her husband for whatever that's worth to folks in a movie called Sinners.

And even the comparison of the love scenes feels disingenuous to me. I've seen some people say Mary is the one shown to be desired between her and Stack while Smoke is shown to be desired by Annie and I want to remind everyone that again Mary is the person chasing Stack. He saw her that morning and said go back to your white husband. Annie and Smoke are reuniting as a couple that went through a horrible loss that can rip modern couples apart, without the additional stresses of being sharecroppers on top of that.

Additionally I don't think it's a coincidence that the love scene between Smoke and Annie happens before the sun goes down and the one between Stack and Mary - which I remind everyone leads to Stack dying!!- happens after nightfall and after Mary has already been turned by Rennick. Sammie and Stack both talk about that day before the sun went down being one of the best days of their life. Given the connection and parallels between the twins I would assume that the same would probably be true for Smoke.

So one of the best days of his life involved getting to reconnect with his wife. Getting to fold her into a business he and his brother were building not just for their own financial freedom and independence but also as a safe space for their community. A community Annie was a central part of.

One of those love scenes happened between a couple that had a real chance of reconciling if Rennick hadn't shown up and it's not the one featuring Mary.

[copinghex]

Start over | T.S

Summary: Tommy’s wife inaugurates an institute for shellshocked men.

The crowd of people outside were too loud for the thick wood doors to keep the noise away. They were important people, the type whose jewelry was expensive enough to buy a car or a house. They were there to pay their respects to Tommy's memory, it seemed that the wine running in their veins made them forget about this fact.

Usually Mrs. Shelby would be annoyed, but that evening wasn't the occasion, her mind was far away from the institute, repeating the same scenes again and again like a broken projector. Tommy's shout, the gunshot, the blood and the fall. 

She had watched his suicide from a few steps away and yet, she couldn't conjure much from the memory. She remembered the sounds and holding his lifeless body in the mud, she supposed Arthur was there too. That was all. 

Then, after months of pondering, she decided to open an institute to honor her husband's name. The Thomas Shelby institute for shell shocked men didn't bring the relief she thought it would.

At that moment, standing before his memorial, locked away from the guests and family, all she wanted to do was cry her lungs out, to sit down near his picture and wait until he, somehow, came back.

"You’ve now created the things that’ll haunt you the most," Lizzie's voice took her off a trance.

"What?" she turned around.

"Don't you think this-" Lizzie hesitated, "encourages you to brood?" 

"I don't know," she shrugged off, "it comforts me," 

Lizzie looked at Tommy's picture and sighed, the most logical part of her wanted to hate him for everything he put her through, the most emotional one though, grieved as much as his wife, "Well, I just came to tell you that you'll need to speak in five minutes," 

"I don't think I can do it, Lizzie," Y/N drawled, "these fuckers don't know- They don't fucking care about who Tommy truly was," 

"No, but the men you're helping in his name will be forever grateful," 

"...is Finn in the audience at least?" 

"Yeah," 

"Ada and Arthur?" 

"Ada is on stage, Arthur couldn't make it, you know how he's like,"

With a defeated frown, Y/N followed Lizzie out, the guests were finally quiet, listening to Ada's welcoming speech. Despite not being the warmest crowd, the amount of people present momentarily soothed her.

However, one specific guest made her stomach churn. Oswald Mosley, the man who indirectly caused Tommy's death, sat next to his wife with an entertained look on his face.

"What is that man doing here?" Y/N whispered to Lizzie.

"I don't know, he wasn't invited," 

"Then how the fuck did he get here?" 

"He must have come with the other parliamentarians, every one that sympathized with Tommy came," Lizzie explained.

"Sympathized," she scoffed.

Besides Mosley, Y/N watched the rest of the guests with a tense jaw, Finn had puffy eyes and a serious expression, the poor boy lost two brothers and his aunt, he couldn't be any different.

Alfie Solomons sat between May Carleton and his wife, they were contrasting figures and looked odd near each other, the only thing able to put them in the same place was Tommy.

Isaiah, Jeremiah, Uncle Charlie and Curly sat together behind a line of members of the parliament, dismayed. Behind them, the clay kickers Tommy had fought with kept their head low.

"The woman who made this possible, Mrs. Y/N Shelby," Ada's sudden call made Y/N jump.

"Go on, it's your turn to speak," Lizzie encouraged, "you can do it," 

With shaky hands, she entered the stage and cleared her throat, all the eyes on her made her nervous.

"I- In first place I'd like to thank everyone who opened space in their agendas to join this inauguration, from the MPs to the soldiers who fought side by side with Thomas, I'm sure he'd be honored to have everyone here," she started, "to be honest I didn't write a speech, but well…"

She paused, unaccustomed to speaking in public, usually Tommy was the one to do it. Looking for assurance, she searched for Ada in the crowd, her sister-in-law gave her a nod and weak smile making her continue,

"The man this institute's name honors was a soldier, a strong and brave one, I must say in all those years we've been married I never saw him fear," she lied, "but also, I never saw him receive the gratitude he deserved for fighting for our country, this is what this institute plans to reach, with the help of our nurses and the donations we received our soldiers will be treated with respect and care hoping that someday they'll be able to return to society, they'll be treated with the gratitude that if Thomas Shelby had received perhaps he'd be the one inaugurating this place, not me," 

With a polite nod Y/N left the stage, the guests applauded and under Lizzie's instructions, headed to the tea room. In the corner, Y/N teared up, she wasn't ready to face so many people at the same time, her heart tightened up in her chest as she held the tears in.

"Lovely speech you made, Mrs. Shelby," Mosley approached with a cynical smile.

"What are you doing here?" she nearly hissed.

"I came to pay my respects to a party friend, I left a donation that'll surely put a smile on your face," 

"Well, you and your ideology aren't welcomed here, Tommy was the only one on your side and he's not here anymore," she squinted her eyes, "so please be courteous and leave the occasion you weren't invited to," 

"Oh? I-" 

"Didn't you hear the lady?" Ada's cold voice cut him off.

"Very well," Mosley frowned, "have a good evening, Mrs. Shelby, both of you," 

Watching him walk away, Ada scoffed, "Fucking hell…" 

"Fucking hell indeed," 

"I came to check on you," Ada gently squeezed Y/N's arm, "are you sure you can stay? Lizzie and I will take care of everything if you prefer not to," 

"I don't know, I- I'm so tired of playing the nice widow, Ada," she cried out, "the truth is that I'd burn down the entire county of Birmingham to have him back," 

"Of that I have no doubt," 

Breathing heavily, Y/N failed at not crying, the tears running down her face didn't expose half of her pain. Her sight got blurry as if everything was a dream or rather, a nightmare, if it was at least she'd wake up at some point, but the truth was much harder than that.

"No, no," Ada comforted, "look, come here, I know something that'll cheer you up," 

"What? A time machine?" Y/N asked while being guided outside.

After a few steps, the women entered a large garden, the variety of flowers were separated by section and at the center, a fountain held the statue of a horse. The place was quiet and a few butterflies hovered around.

"I thought the soldiers would need a place like this to keep their minds clean," Ada explained.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, "Would you leave me alone for a second? I'll join you later," 

Positively nodding, Ada walked back inside.

Y/N went further between the flowers, a weak smile crept into her face as she thought Tommy would be blank faced, but deep down fascinated if he saw the place. Sitting at the edge of the fountain, she lit up a cigarette, the months of grieving had been unbearable, she couldn't stand the coldness of the bed or the mortal silence in Tommy's office.

The nights felt like their house had frozen in time, his clothes, documents, cars and every other belongings were still in place. His phone still rang with people looking for him, the horses on the stable weren't used to being ridden by anyone but him and his cigarettes' ashes still filled the ashtrays.

Tommy's presence haunted the house and its habitants hearts, the fact terrifying the maids who swore Tommy's eyes were following them in the paintings. As macabre as it sounds, if he really was Y/N would be comforted.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps caught her attention, Alfie approached her leaning on a walking stick.

"Mrs. Shelby," he greeted.

"Mr. Solomons, long time no see,"

"Yeah, well, I came to leave a donation, I can't believe I outlived that little cunt, I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Shelby,"

"Honestly," she humorlessly chuckled, "I can't believe it either,"

"It's a lovely cause you've put in his name, it's a nice house, nothing compared to Margate, but still very nice,"

"Well, not all soldiers can afford a house in Margate, Mr. Solomons," she argued, "Is there an actual reason why you're speaking to me? If I remember well you already sent your condolences," 

"Actually there are three, very important, alright? First I'd like to apologize for getting your child taken away around," he pondered, "six years ago, I imagine that as the mother you must have suffered the most,"

"It's something difficult to forgive, isn't it?" she frowned.

"Yeah, that's why I don't have children of my own, innit? In second place I'd like to ask if you plan to carry on with Tommy's plan in regards to Oswald Mosley?"

"...ask Ada," Y/N mumbled, "besides Tommy she's the political one,"

"Alright, last thing is that I came to give you a warning," 

"What warning?" she tilted her head in curiosity.

"Before Tommy blew his brains out and I gave him a warning, I saw him with that gun and that little horse the same way I've been seeing you, same gun and everything,"

"What are you implying?" she scowled.

"I'm not implying anything, I'm stating the fact you and Tommy will be meeting soon if you don't watch out for yourself,"

Without holding back, Y/N slapped Alfie across the face, his green eyes were soon back on her with an unimpressed look.

"It's this a joke for you? Why the fuck would I believe you?!" she barked.

"Well, I'm warning you, ain't I? Now, if you excuse me, my wife is waiting for me," as he walked away, he added, "lovely garden this is! Really lovely!"

Incredulous, she watched him leave, guilt weighted on her chest as she reached for Tommy's pistol under her coat, the gun had only one chamber loaded. Defeated, she took the bullet with her own name carved and made her decision.

Walking to the shrub of white roses, which Tommy never truly admitted, but were his favorites, Y/N removed her gloves and dug the earth deep enough to bury the projectile. She had too much work to do yet, but if someday she changed her mind, she'd know exactly where to find her rest.

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every (Other) Day Until Season 5

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Day 36: Byler's Common Romantic Tropes . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

There are many many times where I get asked what is your favourite byler proof or what is the most convincing byler proof. I could talk about light and imagery and symbolism but y'know what's even more convincing and simple to me? The fact that Byler literally has these extremely common romantic tropes attached to it, but nobody seems to notice because they're two boys. It cannot be a coincidence that they have all these different tropes attached to them -- its clearly planned out to help the pairing's romance come to fruition, otherwise it would make no sense.

1. Playing Cyrano

Definition: Traditionally in film, to "play Cyrano" is to have a more physically attractive person (Person A) hit on the object of their desire (Person C), but the words that are winning them over are being fed to Person A by someone else who is in love with Person C and knows them better (Person B). In every case, Person C originally falls in love with Person A because of the words they say, but upon finding out who really said those things, they end up falling in love with Person B. Some examples include Cyrano De Bergerac of course, Friends, Modern Family (though it's played as a joke), Back To The Future.

This is literally the painting plot, but it's not played out in the exact same way, though it's similar. Will (Person B) is obviously in love with Mike (Person C) but doesn't feel he can actually tell him those things because he doesn't think it will make him happy. This is a misbelief.

Now, technically, having Will refer to his feelings as El's feelings (Person A) is not the same as the original Cyrano trope. However, Will believes that he is helping both Mike's self-esteem and Mike and El's relationship by doing this, as he thinks that is what they both want. This is obviously an extremely selfless act. Now, these words obviously make Mike feel like he can finally say "I love you" to El, because Will reminds him of them right before the confession. So in S4, we have part 1 of the "pay-off" to this trope.

If we follow along with the trope, then hopefully, Mike will find out that those words are really coming from Will, he will actually fall in love (or realise he's in love) with Will, all because he's always been touched by those words. He'd also be touched by the selflessness of the act, and this selflessness usually inspires some loving feelings in Person C toward Person B.

So if Mike looks like he's falling in love with Will here, it because he literally is, he just has no idea yet.

2. First Girl Wins

Definition: Commonly in romantic plot lines, the first girl introduced — either overall or as a potential love interest — has a very good chance of ending up with the protagonist. She's often presented as someone who knows the protagonist better, stays in love with the protagonist despite his obvious non-reciprocation, etc. The First Girl will rarely be the first one to confess her feelings or admit them. In fact, she's much more likely to be the one who does it last. The logic behind this is that she's the one whom the main character loves (even if he doesn't realise it himself), if she showed him romantic affection, then he would immediately choose her.

Will being in love with Mike is literally the classic 'I know you better than she does' trope but it's gay. There are so many times in S4 especially where Will is presented to have a better understanding of Mike than El and the audience is supposed to feel bad for him. For example, when he's the one Mike goes to about all his problems, and when Will judges whether they should go to the movies based on Mike's body language. The viewers are supposed to feel frustrated that Mike isn't seeing what is right in front of him.

Having Will be in love with Mike from the beginning and having their first scene together literally show that Will can't lie to him, and that he's selfless, is insane to me. What would not make sense is for all this to happen, for Will to be presented as such an ideal match for Mike, just for him to be used as a tool in their relationship. As if that's a reward.

There is a reason that the writers haven't shown Will make any real moves toward Mike -- they're saving it for the climax of the show, aka when Mike ends up 'choosing' Will.

3. The Promise

Definition: When characters call a "promise" into the spotlight as something that can never ever be broken, this always backfires for the character that says so or the characters involved in the promise. (The most famous example of this I can think of is literally in Tangled lmao) This can backfire in a number of ways, but the most common are: the promise was never going to pan out, the promise would end up hurting the protagonist or sacrificing them, the promise will start out as something good but end up trapping them.

I've touched on this trope much more in this post, but as a summary, basically in this scene above, Mike draws attention to the definiton of a promise as "something that you can't break. Ever." This immediately dooms Mileven for me. It's clear that Mike is going to make some huge promise about their relationship to El and this is either going to hurt Mike or it will trap both of them in something that they feel far too invested in to go back on. Which is exactly what happens.

Mike promises to go to the Snow Ball with El. He says those words when she seemingly is about to die (in S1). This promise does not pan out because she 'dies'. UNTIL season 2, when the Snow Ball actually happens. Which means this promise can only happen in the other sense: it is trapping the protagonist. But Mike isn't just promising to go to the Snow Ball with El, no, he's promising to be with her, keep her safe etc. What he thinks is keeping her safe so that he won't lose her is by being in a relationship with her.

I really recommend the post I linked, because it goes way more into depth, but yeah. Insane parallels happen.

4. Interruptions

Definition: I'm sure you can safely assume what this is, but this is when two characters seemingly have a romantic interaction and seem to be building up to something intimate, but something out of their control stops both characters from doing this. This interruption is often paired with both characters looking embarrassed/ acknowledging the interruption to further romantic tension. These moments are made with the intention for the climax of the romantic plot to seem more satisfying.

This happens to so many ST couples after romantic moments, including Lumax and Jancy, but this happens to Byler in S4 four times. Yes, you heard me right. Four TIMES. They really really wanted us to make sure we see them as romantic didn't they?

Pictured above, Mike and Will both have a slightly flirtatious moment before they get interrupted by Jonathan who they are shown to swing their heads around and look at.

After Byler have an intimate moment of gazing into each other's eyes, they get shocked and gasp because they hear something outside the house that could possibly interrupt them.

On top of the car in the desert, after Will says something that might imply that he has a 'truth' that Mike won't like, Argyle interrupts them, showing a shot of Mike and Will stopping looking at each other.

In Hopper's cabin, after Mike grabs Will's shoulder and reassures him, they hear people outside and there is a shot of Mike's hand still on Will's shoulder before they look at each other one more time and leave the couch.

I mean this trope is as literal as it gets. In the script of the "cool, cool" scene, it literally says "this intimate moment is interrupted". HELLO???

Anyway, as I said before, you don't accidentally write this many commonly used tropes into a story without the characters actually doing something about it. There are also even more other common tropes that I didn't talk about here because it is not worth going into for a whole post (these include the holding hands trope, the selfless confession trope etc,). Basically, I just can't believe they would do all this for no reason. It also makes no sense for this to be done for queerbait purposes. Writing Byler this way is no easy way out.

[canonizzyhours]

Before I say this I want to make it clear I am someone who overall likes Izzy. I wanted him to be redeemed and I liked his season 2 redemption arc. But there is something important about season 2 that I feel like I can only say here, because my more canyon-sympathetic moots would go nuts if I said it on main.

If you want to understand season 2 in a way that's not reading against the text you absolutely have to accept that the toe stuff is presented as comedy. Like some previous posts here said it's basically a loony toons gag. It's funny like how it's funny that Jim locked Lucius in a trunk for days and like it's funny how Roach and Buttons tried to kill and eat the Swede and like how it's funny that Ricky's nose got cut off. If you did not get that Izzy losing toes was supposed to be funny you cannot understand anything that comes after.

This isn't about woobifying Ed or excusing his actions. Ed does a lot of really bad things to his friends in the first two episodes. The bad things he does are

(1) being a really shitty boss - overworking everyone, being callous to his employees' needs, stealing paychecks by dumping loot overboard, etc;

(2) endangering everyone by steering into the storm;

(3) purposely making people who cared about him traumatize themselves by killing him; and

(4) shooting Izzy.

The shooting is clearly portrayed as out of line. THE TOES AREN'T THOUGH. THE TOES ARE PORTRAYED AS FUNNY.

The point of it is not that Izzy is being abused. The whole point of the "unhealthy relationship" line is that it's not actually domestic abuse, that's what makes it funny. Here is one of the ways you know they're supposed to be funny: remember when someone in the crew talked about how funny it was on instagram and a bunch of people screamed at her for thinking it was funny? It never occurred to her anyone would react that way because the entire cast and crew obviously understood it as funny.

(Including Con! He's clearly playing the scene as comedy on purpose with those little heem heem whimpers and it's doing an enormous disservice to his performance to refuse to see it! We KNOW he intended to play it as comedy because you can look back at the Vanity Fair article that came out before season 2 and he talks about how one of the challenges he faced in the season was going back and forth between comedy and drama and he SPECIFICALLY MENTIONS PLAYING IZZY'S FOOT INJURY AS COMEDY.)

People in the canyon are STILL mad about how they think there was a plotline in season 2 about Ed domestically abusing Izzy and wondering why the show didn't pay that off but the reason it didn't resolve that is because they imagined it. There was no domestic abuse plotline. There was a RUNNING GAG about Izzy losing toes, which was played as funny because the show expected you to understand that Izzy did in fact vote -- campaigned, actually -- for the leopards to eat his face. It's supposed to be funny while also at the same time making him pathetic enough that you can decide he's suffered sufficiently for what he did in season 1.

The show does not portray all of Izzy's suffering as funny! Like I said, the shooting is treated pretty seriously and that's why it gets brought up multiple times later in the season! But the toes, the toes are purely funny, and they're framed as funny because the narrative knows he deserved it.

#442.